


Pants are Better for Questing

by flowersheep



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, always a girl!Merlin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-01-06 23:19:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1112695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersheep/pseuds/flowersheep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somehow Arthur never got the memo that his manservant isn't actually a man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hindsight

**Author's Note:**

> Set between series 4 and 5. 
> 
> Previously posted on fanfiction.net.

If Arthur could have chosen a time in which to discover a certain, well-kept secret about his manservant, he would have chosen to be in his chambers back in Camelot. Preferably with a pitcher of the strongest wine available near at hand. He most certainly would not have chosen to be huddled in the protection of the giant roots of a tree after a surprise attack by bandits. (Although, is it really a surprise anymore if it happens on a regular basis?)

 

“Merlin…” Arthur isn’t sure how to continue. His hands hover uncertainly over the wound on his servant’s shoulder, knowing it needs to be treated, but lost as to how to proceed. As his mind flounders for a solution, Arthur thinks that there is now a real irony to the fact that he has spent the last six years calling Merlin a girl. Desperately, the king wonders why Merlin couldn’t have been injured in a way that didn’t require the removal of shirts.

 

“Look, Arthur,” Merlin says irritably, voice just a little breathless because that shoulder wound hurts, “I know this is something of a shock for you, but you need to pull yourself together. Now really isn’t the time for this.” No, now most certainly is not the time to try and reconcile the fact that his loyal manservant is not, in fact, a man at all. It doesn’t stop Arthur from trying.

 

He really does need to pull himself together, doesn’t he?

 

“I know that,” Arthur insists. “It’s just…” Heaving a sigh he gestures uselessly with his hand. “I don’t want to…offend your honor or-”

 

“Oh for the love of-” Merlin pushes herself more upright against the trunk, despite the pain it causes, so as to better be able to glare at her king. “Arthur,” she begins firmly, “they’re just breasts. They’re not going to hurt you. Now just treat the damn wound so we can get out of here!”

 

Yes, Arthur finds himself thinking, those are indeed breasts. He shakes himself. Just treat the wound. That’s all he has to do. Treat the wound so they can go home and Arthur can contemplate the latest plot twist in his life in the comfort of his room, far from angry bandits. It isn’t hard. The salve is already resting on his knee. All he has to do is smear some on the wound, bandage it up, and then he can pretend for a bit longer that Merlin is still a man and oh god, he’s been undressing in front of a woman for six year.

 

Arthur has treated many injuries, but never has smearing salve on a wound been so difficult. This is quite possibly because he has never before treated a woman. It’s not the same as treating a man. With men, Arthur doesn’t have to be concerned about how close his hands are to…to…to violating a particular area of a woman’s chest. He keeps his eyes firmly on Merlin’s shoulder, aware that his cheeks are probably blazing with heat, but refusing to acknowledge such things because kings don’t blush damn it! The thought that the only thing keeping him from seeing far too much of his servant’s chest is a wide strip of white cloth makes Arthur want to abandon his attempt at first aid altogether. Finally, the king manages to tie off a bandage and Merlin puts her shirt back on. It’s relieving to once again have her upper body covered, but Arthur can’t make himself forget the uncomfortable fact that Merlin has breasts under there, existing just out of sight beneath a shield of blue fabric. God help him.

 

All thoughts of Merlin and how not male she is flee from Arthur’s mind the minute he hears approaching footsteps. Unconsciously he places a hand on Merlin’s chest to keep her still. Only later will Arthur realize that his protective gesture had, in fact, also been a full on grope. Which is just as well, considering they may be on the verge of being attacked by bandits and there are more important things to concentrate on. Things that aren’t Merlin’s breasts.

 

“Sire?” a familiar voice hisses. “Merlin?” It’s Leon.

 

“Oh thank God,” Arthur moans. He stands and sees his knights approaching the tree. A quick visual check reveals no signs of injury. Mostly they just look relieved to have found their king alive and well.

  
“Are you alright, sire?” Leon asks as Arthur moves away from the tree. While he nods, Gwaine goes to help Merlin, eyebrows rising when she winces at the movement of her damaged shoulder.

 

“She’s been wounded,” Arthur confirms, only to realize a moment later exactly what he’s said when four pairs of curious eyes and one irritated pair zero in on him. “I mean…” But there’s really no coming back from that. Gradually, the knights’ eyes shift from Arthur to Merlin, who huffs and crosses her arms indignantly, despite the fact that it probably hurts her shoulder to do so.

 

“Am I going to have to take off my shirt and prove it to you or will you take me at my word that yes, I’m a woman?” Merlin demands. For a moment, Gwaine looks as if he’s seriously deliberating asking her to take her shirt off. Considering it’s Gwaine Arthur wouldn’t be surprised if it’s a reflex developed from years of chasing girls. Thankfully, the knight recalls exactly whom it is he’s about to ask this of at the last second and wisely keeps his mouth shut. Arthur notes that none of the knights, not even Gwaine, are exempt from the embarrassed flush that Merlin’s words bring out and the servant in question is looking quite pleased with herself.

 

“That…won’t be necessary,” Leon finally says. Percival shuffles his feet awkwardly. When no one makes a move to do anything, Merlin rolls her eyes.

 

“Right,” she starts, “I don’t know about you lot, but I’m not sticking around to wait for more bandits.” And with that she marches off into the woods. Arthur jolts into motion. A moment later he hears the knights following.

  
Arthur spends the entire trip back to Camelot wondering how he spent six years completely missing the fact that his best friend is a woman. Talk about hindsight.


	2. Perfectly Capable, Thank You Very Much

Camelot being Camelot it doesn’t take long for the news to spread throughout the entire castle and by nightfall it has spilled out into the lower town. It seems Arthur isn’t the only one shocked by his manservant’s recent revelation. There are many different strains of the conversation going around. The most popular one, not to mention the one that amuses Gwen the most, is the theory that Arthur and Merlin have been engaged in a six year long passionate, sordid love affair and the case of mistaken sex was actually a brilliantly concocted plan to protect Merlin from the public. Gwen knows for a fact that nothing could be farther from the truth and that is part of what makes the whole thing hilarious. Anyone who thinks that the king and his maidservant would ever have a passionate, sordid love affair has clearly never spent five minutes in the same room as them. Close friends? Certainly. Lovers? Never in a million years.

“It’d be like sleeping with my brother,” Merlin muttered when Gwen told her about the city’s new favorite topic of gossip. “Besides, there’s just something about spending six years drawing someone’s bath water and helping them dress each morning that detracts from their attractiveness.” Arthur entered just in time to catch the end of that remark and the conversation quickly devolved into an argument.

Gwen does have to admit that she is staggered by the amount of people that were unaware that Merlin is a woman. It isn’t like Merlin has ever made an effort to disguise her femininity. Most of Merlin’s unwomanly mannerisms are simply who she is. Hunith is no dainty flower and it makes sense that her daughter would be made of the same stern stuff. Her brash manner is simply a part of her personality. Her cropped hair and lack of skirts are for functional reasons. As someone who isn’t particularly bothered with the opinions of others Merlin has never made the effort to conform to anyone’s typical idea of a woman, much less Camelot’s. Well, Gwen thinks, it’s not as if it really matters anymore. Merlin is out of the closet (or whatever the proper euphemism is for this sort of thing) and that is that.

“Are you sure you should be the one doing this?”

“For God’s sake, Arthur, I’ve seen you naked more times than I can count. Just get in the tub.”

Gwen decisively chooses to hover just outside the royal chambers when she hears her husband and her friend arguing. A smile unwittingly tugs at her lips. Gwen swears that Arthur is having a harder time coming to terms with Merlin being a woman than he would if she had admitted to having magic. 

“Perhaps George should be the one to take care of this particular…duty from now on.”

“Why?” An edge of jealousy creeps into Merlin’s tone. For all her complaining Gwen knows that Merlin has always been quite territorial about her job. “I’m perfectly capable of helping you bathe. You’re the one hiding behind the changing screen like a child.”

“Merlin…”

“Yes, Arthur?”

“It’s just…you’re a-”

“Finish that sentence, Arthur Pendragon. I dare you.”

“You can’t speak to your king like that!”

“Then come out here and stop me!”

“I can’t!”

“Don’t make me come get you Arthur!”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Watch me!”

“Merlin-” Arthur cuts himself with the high-pitched scream of a little girl (which he will thoroughly deny when Gwen brings it up later). A reverberating crash follows. Quietly, Gwen pushes open the door and slips inside. The sight that greets her is one that will undoubtedly give her a few good years of embarrassing blackmail material over her husband. Merlin has shoved the screen out of the way, leaving Arthur exposed for all the world to see. Or in this case, just his angry maidservant. In a last desperate attempt to keep his dignity, the king has grabbed the nearest pillow and is holding it desperately over his crotch while Merlin tries to rip it away.

“I’ve seen it before Arthur!” the maidservant is shouting. “It’s not that impressive! Now let got of the pillow and get in the damn bath!”

“Merlin!” Arthur shrieks. His voice is several octaves too high and Gwen is quite certain she has never seen such a panicked look on her husband’s face. “Merlin, this is highly inappropriate conduct! I demand you release the pillow at once!”

“Not until you get in the bath, sire!” 

Gwen clears her throat politely, drawing two sets of blue eyes to her, one horrified and one furious. “Is everything alright?” the queen asks innocently. Arthur’s face is a red beacon of sheer embarrassment. He tries a few more times to subtly yank the pillow away, but Merlin holds fast. 

“Your husband is being difficult,” the maidservant announces. “Will you please tell him to get in the damn bath already so I can finish my duties and leave?”

“There is no need to drag Guinevere into this!” Arthur protests.

“Clearly, there is,” Merlin quips. “You are being an absolute child about this.”

“I am not!”

For a long moment Merlin does nothing. Then she heaves a long-suffering sigh and averts her eyes from Arthur. The way her shoulders slump seems almost defeated. For all intents and purposes it looks like she’s giving up. Gwen isn’t fooled. Arthur is. 

“Look, Merlin,” the king begins, sincerity coloring his tone and fingers unconsciously loosening their hold on the pillow, “I’m not trying to…undermine your abilities or any such thing, I just feel that-” And before he can finish Merlin swiftly yanks the pillow from his slackened grip and unceremoniously shoves Camelot’s king into his bath. Arthur comes up spluttering and coughing, unable to do anything more than stare at his smirking maidservant. Gwen is trying her hardest not to double over laughing. 

“Don’t forget to wash behind your ears, my lord,” Merlin says and the smugness just oozes from her tone. 

Recovering from his surprise, Arthur mutters, “You will pay for this Merlin,” before beginning to scrub himself clean. Gwen shares an amused look with the maidservant as the two women move away from the grumbling king so that Merlin might help the queen prepare for bed.

“That was mean,” Gwen comments quietly, her mirth still gleaming in her eyes. Merlin’s smug smirk will likely remain firmly in place for the rest of the night.

“It was no more than he deserved,” the servant replies. They glance back over to the tub where Arthur can be seen sulking as he scrubs his hair.

“Need any help, sire?” Merlin asks with false politeness.

“Shut up Merlin.”


End file.
